


Not Today

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s08e15 DeadAlive, F/M, here's one take on it, why did Scully keep Mulder's apartment?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 06:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19739737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Scully is not ready to let go. At least not today.





	Not Today

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Don’t tell me to keep calm!”

The sound of torn off packing tape cuts through the apartment and startles Scully. She finds herself in between the kitchen and the living room, neither here nor there. The kitchen is the safest place. It’s the room with the least memories. Glancing inside, the room is nearly stripped bare. Open, empty cupboards gape at her. Mulder used to keep a few mugs on the lower shelf just for her, knowing she couldn’t reach up high. The first time, so early in their partnership, he laughed when she tried her best, on her tiptoes, her blouse riding up. He handed her a mug, promised he’d think of something. He did; he kept his promise. 

But that was years ago. 

Today is goodbye. Lately, she thinks, she’s done nothing but say goodbye, let go of everything she loves. Her hand finds the swell of her stomach. She still has this. Their child is growing inside her, learning to kick, keeping her awake just like his father used to do. The shadow of a smile flickers over her face, unseen. One of the faceless movers moves past her with a mumbled apology. He’s off to the next room, the living room. 

Scully can’t turn around, can’t face it. When was the last time she was here, with Mulder? It wasn’t that one morning after falling asleep on the couch, the two of them barely fitting there, but managing somehow. They always did. She woke up before him, snuck into the kitchen for a glass of water, and when she returned, there he was. Taken aback, she stopped, glass in hand, unabashedly staring at him. 

He gave her a smile, drowsy yet genuine. Scully, speechless, joined him on the couch. She feared, as she often did in those early days, that one wrong word would set them back, set them back to default, to friends and partners. Mulder, or so it seemed to her, was fearless. He put his arm around her, drawing her near, shielding her with his sleepy warmth, mumbling nonsense into her neck and tickling her with his five o'clock shadow. 

A glimpse of blue shakes her to the core; Skinner is holding one of Mulder’s shirts, looking for a box to put it in. Scully runs towards him and stubs her toe on a box full of magazines. She winces. 

"Hey, careful there,” her boss says and holds out his hand. But Scully only sees the shirt. She reaches for it and only calms down once she feels the soft fabric between her fingers. It no longer smells like Mulder but her first instinct is to bring it to her nose, to find him there, to breathe him in. There’s only a whiff of detergent. It’s not even the brand Mulder used to use. This was a mistake. All of it.

“I want everyone to leave,” she says evenly, lifting her eyes to look at her boss. Through his glasses his confused eyes look comically huge.

“We- we’re not done yet. There’s still the living room and then-”

“You’re done. We’re not doing this.” One of the movers has stopped packing. He doesn’t know her, has never seen her before today. His eyes wander to her stomach and up again. Scully doesn’t know him well enough to wonder if his expression is sympathetic. 

“Dana?” Her mother comes out of Mulder’s bedroom, stands next to Skinner. A united front. Scully wishes Mulder could see it. “What’s the matter?”

“She says we should leave.”

“Are you tired? Is this too much for you?" 

Scully shakes her head. "Not me. You. We’re not packing up Mulder’s life. Not today." 

"Dana, we have the movers here.”

“I said not today.” She squeezes her eyes shut, holding the shirt more tightly against her. They kept this, them, a secret for as long as they could. How ironic that their cover was blown by Mulder’s death. Their relationship dead and buried alongside him. All she’s got is a few trinkets and memories; the pitiful looks from her mother and their boss. 

“Honey, I know this is difficult. Remember when we cleaned out your father’s things?” Her mother takes her hands into hers, pleads with her to listen to reason. She nods; she remembers. It’s not the same. Her father knew his children; they knew him. This baby inside her, how will he know Mulder? If this is all she has left, then their baby deserves to have it. She wants their child to know this place, Mulder’s home.

“Everyone out, please. We’re not doing this. I changed my mind.” She takes a small box from the mover, pushes a few dollar notes into his hand. He doesn’t move. “You can leave. Your work here is done.”

“Dana, please,” her mother tries again, but her mind is made up. “This won’t bring Fox back.”

She takes a deep breath. “I know that. But it’s all I have. It’s all the- it’s all there is left. I don’t care what you do with the kitchen stuff. No one touches anything else.” At that moment, another mover comes out of Mulder’s bedroom, carrying a box of ties.

“No!" 

"You need to stay calm,” her mother says, laying a hand on her arm. 

“Don’t tell me to keep calm!” Scully tears the box from the mover and he lets go. It crashes down as ties sail to the floor. She finds herself there, on her knees, the carpet digging into her skin. Not today, she mumbles. Not today. A hand on her shoulder. Her mother comforting her. Skinner’s low voice sending people away. 

Then, finally, a sense of quiet.

One of Mulder’s ties in one hand, his blue shirt in the other, she lets the tears fall. She’ll have to say goodbye, again and again. Soon. But not today.


End file.
